


Waiting for the Hint of a Spark

by Em_Jaye



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Gen, Inspired by Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV), Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Steve Rogers Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-09
Packaged: 2019-05-03 07:37:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14564178
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: The body knows what fighters don't: how to protect itself. A neck can only twist so far. Twist it just a hair more and the body says, "Hey, I'll take it from here because you obviously don't know what you're doing... Lie down now, rest, and we'll talk about this when you regain your senses." It's called the knockout mechanism.-Million Dollar Baby





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> If you've ever watched Buffy the Vampire Slayer and sat through the unrelenting darkness of Season Five, you'll recognize this set-up pretty quickly. If you haven't, well, I'd lie to you and say you're in for a treat, but you're mostly in for a lot of angst. I couldn't get Steve's expression out of my mind after seeing Infinity War last weekend. Kudos to Chris Evans for giving us the one thing we've never seen Steve be since he started playing him: lost.

“Oh, God…”

He heard himself say the words as his knees gave out and he lowered himself to the ground.

Gone.

Bucky. Sam. Wanda. Vision. T'Challa.

Their faces slammed into his mind with the force of a freight train.

Gone.

They’d failed.

_He_ had failed.

_“Steve?”_

He heard someone say his name but whoever it was sounded far away. Too far to make them out.

_“Captain Rogers, please.”_

Another voice now. Maybe more urgent, but also farther away.

Or maybe _he_ was farther away now. He didn’t remember moving. He wasn’t sure he could.

Why hadn’t he gone with them? Why was he still here?

Bucky.

Sam.

_“Steve, get up.”_

Wanda.

Vision.

T'Challa.

_“Get up, Steve, we need you.”_

They were wrong. They didn’t need him.

Not anymore.

Not when he’d failed trillions and trillions across the galaxy. When so many lives had been destroyed in one instant because he hadn’t been strong enough to stop it. When everything they’d done—everything they’d sacrificed—had been for nothing.

_“Steve, please…”_

But he couldn’t. Whatever they wanted, whatever they needed, he couldn’t do it.

Not now.

Not anymore.

***

Natasha didn’t know what kind of chaos was reigning in the rest of the world, but Wakanda was handling what had happened with unbelievable calm and organization. Their doctors were mobilized to the battlefield and were quickly and efficiently moving the wounded back to the hospital. Okoye and Shuri had pulled themselves together to take stock of who remained of the Dora Milaje and in the royal family.

Okoye had surprised her. She’d watched her embrace Shuri like a sister, pet her hair and face with a tenderness she didn’t expect. They had spoken quickly and quietly and when they’d raised their heads again, it had been all business. Orders were given and assessments made. After a shared glance with Okoye, Shuri had pointed to Steve and demanded he be taken to her lab.

“I’m going with him,” Natasha had heard herself say as two of the Wakandan soldiers lifted Steve to his feet.

Shuri nodded. “I know. I will meet you there as soon as I can.”

She didn’t let herself think about anything more than what was in front of her as she followed the men back to the lab. She forced her mind to stay in the moment, to focus on Steve and figure out what had just happened.

She wouldn’t think about Clint.

Or Laura.

Or the kids.

Or Nick.

She wouldn’t.

She was going to think about Thanos and what he had just done and how they were going to make it right. She was going to focus on the plan they would cobble together that would somehow undo this horrible blow he had just dealt to the universe.

But first—

“How long has he been like this?” A young woman appeared at her side, her fingers moving on a screen hovering over her palm.

“I—I don’t…” Natasha stuttered. “I don’t know.”

“Has this happened before?”

She shook her head firmly. “No. Never. What’s…” she watched as they moved Steve into an exam room. “Is he going to be okay? What’s wrong with him?”

“We’ll know more once they complete their exam,” the young woman said with a nod to the bits of tech her team was attaching to Steve’s temple and chest. Almost instantly, a new avalanche of data appeared on her personal projection screen. A little line of concentration appeared between her eyebrows. Natasha cleared her throat, awaiting an update. A glance was thrown her way accompanied by a tight smile. “Shuri will have a better idea of how to proceed when she gets back.”

The rest of the team assembled while they waited for Shuri. Tense, quiet and with the same hollow look she knew she was wearing.

She tried not to count how many were missing.

“If he’s in shock, shouldn’t he be lying down?” Bruce asked, uncrossing his arms from his chest.

“I thought you were supposed to keep people warm when they were in shock,” Rhodey commented in between glances around the room.

He was counting people too, Natasha realized.

“He’s not in shock,” Shuri announced as she entered the room. Behind her followed a face Nat hadn’t realized she’d been hoping to see.

“Darcy,” Thor crossed the room and offered her a quick embrace before anyone else could say anything. “You’re alright,” he assessed as he pulled away.

She nodded tightly. “I was in the war room with Zakar,” she motioned behind her vaguely. Her eyes were red-rimmed, and she seemed paler than usual. “I was on a call with Ross, trying to mobilize some kind of back-up for you…” she trailed off at the sight of Steve across the room. “What’s...?”

Natasha clenched her jaw. Darcy had been stationed in Wakanda for the last year—since T’Challa had opened communication with the rest of the world. Ross had thought that her education and unique experience with enhanced individuals could be of use to the royal family and their new allies in the months that followed the king’s announcement.

And while Darcy was kept busy most days trying to untangle the mess of The Accords, dealing with sticky international relationships, and learning all she could about the culture and history of Wakanda itself, Natasha would have had to have been blind not to notice the way her eyes lit up when Steve dropped in for a visit.

Or the way Steve tried not to follow her with his gaze when she left a room.

Or their quick and easy friendship that was based on bad puns, mutual respect, and an undying hatred of the Boston Red Sox.

Darcy turned to her. “What happened? Is he okay?”

Natasha opened her mouth to respond but closed it again and shook her head. “We don’t know,” she said, carefully stating the truth. Steve was sitting motionless in the chair he’d been pushed into hours ago. His eyes were open, blinking on occasion. His breathing was normal. He was just unresponsive.

“It’s not shock,” Shuri said again, pulling their attention back to her and the data she’d been collecting from Steve from the moment he’d been brought to her lab. She took a bead from her bracelet and set it on a silver dish, projecting a hologram of Steve’s body. “Physically there is nothing wrong with Captain Rogers.” She moved her fingers swiftly and the projection changed to just a human brain. “It’s a psychological break.”

“A break?” Bruce repeated. “But shouldn’t the serum protect him from things like that?”

Shuri looked up and huffed out a joyless chuckle. “There’s only so much we can expect from eighty-year-old experimental science, Dr. Banner,” she said before she shook her head and continued. “And even if he is in peak physical condition, he’s still a human being.  You didn’t expect him to be unbreakable in every way forever, did you?”

Natasha watched as the accusation settled over them before she forced herself to clear her throat and try to wrangle back some feeling of control over the situation. “So, what can we do now? How do we get him back?”

Shuri looked nervous for the first time. “It’s not that easy, Ms. Romanov. This isn’t a switch I can flip or even as straightforward as rewiring neurons.” She turned back to the projection of Steve’s brain and enhanced the details. “Do you see all of this blue?” she asked, motioning to the most prominent color focused in the center of the brain. “This is damage caused by prolonged and—given that he’s American, I’m assuming untreated—depression. Factor in the repeated trauma he’s been subjecting himself to for most of his life,” she pointed to the edges of the brain and motioned to the splinters of red, “and you have a mind that has been pushed well past its breaking point.”

“But if there’s physical damage,” Bruce asked carefully, “shouldn’t the serum be able to repair it, even if it’s got a psychological cause?”

“Perhaps,” she conceded. “But that would mean he had time to heal—some stretch of time when his brain _wasn’t_ being affected by ongoing trauma.” She looked at them expectantly. “When’s the last time any of you had that?”

“But how do we fix him?” Nat heard Rhodey ask, but her attention was drawn toward Steve again.

Darcy had made her way to him slowly, staying to the edge of the cluster around Shuri. She’d dropped down to crouch in front of him and put herself in his field of vision. “Steve?” she asked softly. “Can you hear me? It’s Darcy.”

“No offense, Darcy,” Rhodey cut in, impatiently, “but we don’t exactly have time to baby-talk him back into action.”

“She has more the right idea than you do, Colonel,” Shuri said sharply. “Your friend needs rest and care. There is no quick fix for a breakdown like this.”

“So, that’s the best we can do?” Bruce asked in disbelief. “Just…let him rest and hope he comes back? How do we even know that’s going to happen? How do we know he’s still in there?”

“He is,” Shuri said without hesitation. “I promise. And if this had happened yesterday, there are people I could have called to help us but—” she stopped herself suddenly and took a quick breath. Her throat bobbed with a hard swallow before she continued. “I’ll do all that I can to help him,” she said. “But this just isn’t my area of expertise. I’m sorry.”

Her apology was met with pensive silence.

Shuri sighed again. “There may be something we can try, but…” she stopped herself again. “I need time to familiarize myself with the science.”

“Is it something we can help with?” Bruce asked, less accusation in his voice this time.

She nodded. “I can show you to N’Basa’s office,” she grabbed her bead from the dish and replaced it on her bracelet.

“N’Basa?” Darcy asked, looking away from Steve. “Is he…”

Shuri shook her head, her jaw clenched. “But he’s who I would have called.” She moved her narrow shoulders in a shrug. “I know he had been working on something that might…” she shrugged again. “It might be worth a shot.” Darcy made a move to stand, but Shuri held up a hand. “I’ll take you three,” she said to Bruce, Rhodey, and Thor before she addressed Darcy and Natasha. “I would like you two to stay and keep watch over Captain Rogers, please.”

“Are you sure?” Darcy stood up fully. “I’d like to help—”

“I know,” Shuri assured her and held up the wrist where she wore her bracelet. “I’ll be in contact.”

 

***

 

Darcy didn’t know what time it was when they returned. She and Natasha had been taking shifts standing guard and it had been her turn to try to catch a little sleep. She awoke to Thor’s hand on her shoulder and an otherwise empty room.

“What happened?” she asked suddenly, sitting up, alert. “Where is Steve?”

“He’s fine,” Thor assured her before he corrected himself. “Unchanged. Come with me.”

The pinks and muted blues of sunrise surprised her as they made their way upstairs from the Shuri’s lab toward the hospital by way of the connecting T’Chaka Path. The early morning air was damp and still cool. The surrounding city much quieter than she would have expected from the aftershock of the apocalypse.

She only knew N’Basa by reputation—she knew he was a professor at one of the universities in Birnin Azzaria before he’d been called in to help with Bucky’s deprogramming while he was in stasis. His partnership with Shuri while they monitored Bucky’s recovery had kept him in Birnin Zana and stationed him in an office of his own.

As Thor had said, Steve was unchanged when they arrived. Still upright but dead behind the eyes and totally unresponsive. It was with a stupid, selfish pang that she realized he was the first person she’d allowed herself to miss. Not the parents she hadn’t been able to reach. Not the team of people she’d been working with for the last fifteen months—most of whom had evaporated before her eyes. Not even Bucky, who had just finally started warming up to her and letting her hang out with his goats on her days off.

“What did you find?” she asked, pulling her attention away from Steve’s vacant expression. There was a series of projections around the room. Blueprints and designs scribbled with notes she couldn’t understand.

“N’Basa was working on a theory that might help us reach Captain Rogers and help him return to consciousness,” Shuri said, remarkably not showing any signs of fatigue, despite having worked all night. She pointed to the projection behind her and swiped through the air so that an image of a small disc came front and center. “It’s based on an idea I had for a device that could extract and preserve memories and store them as data to be revisited later.”

Darcy’s face wrinkled in confusion. “Like a Pensieve?” she asked before she could stop herself.

Shuri looked up and grinned briefly. “Tell me it wasn’t one of her coolest ideas,” she said with a hint of the familiar radiance Darcy had come to expect.

Darcy allowed herself a quick smile back. “It definitely was,” she agreed before she cleared her throat. “So, if it works, what is this thing going to do?”

“If I’m reading these notes correctly and actually,” she paused and shifted her eyes to Bruce, “it was Dr. Banner who caught the link first, my design works just as designed for one person. But with a relatively simple patch and an update to the firmware, we can use two and simulate a telepathic connection.”

She blinked. “You mean…we’d be able to read his mind?”

Shuri shook her head. “More than that. We’d be able to _access_ his mind and figure out exactly where he is. And how to bring him back.”

“That’s amazing,” she breathed. “How…how long is that going to take? For you to do the patch and the update?”

Shuri’s shoulders moved in a modest shrug. “Twenty, maybe thirty minutes,” her expression dropped again. “But that’s not why we woke you. We’ve hit another snag.”

She frowned. “What?”

“N’Basa’s theory relies heavily on the subject being _willing_ have his or her mind accessed. It was never meant to be used like this and I’m not sure that Captain Rogers will be responsive to a knock on the door of his mind unless the right person is knocking.”

Darcy looked up from Shuri to see that all eyes had turned to her. “Me?” She guessed in disbelief. “Huh-uh. There’s no way. Why would he open the door for me?”

“You’re friends, aren’t you?” Shuri asked, as if it were obvious.

“Well, yeah, but there’s _definitely_ people in this room that are higher up on the Steve Rogers friendship ladder.” She turned to Natasha. “Why not her?”

Shuri pursed her lips and appeared to be choosing her words carefully. “Natasha has been a victim of mental conditioning and brainwashing—there’s no guarantee that she would come through this intact. The same with Dr. Banner, I’m afraid.”

“And Steve and I can get along, but I’m not exactly his most trusted friend in the world,” Rhodey reminded.

“And I’m not familiar enough with Asgardian physiology to speculate how Thor’s mind works and apply it in this instance.”

“Sorry kid,” Natasha frowned, looking genuinely apologetic. “But you’re all we’ve got.”

Darcy looked helplessly from Nat back to Shuri, a weight of dread sinking into her stomach. “This isn’t a request,” she asked with a hard swallow. “Is it?”

“Of course it is,” Shuri insisted. “You have to be a willing participant.”

“But half the world just disappeared into a pile of dust,” Rhodey reminded, not unkindly. “And we’re running very short on heroes right now.” He glanced back at Steve. “We need him back.”

Darcy looked back at Steve and sighed. Steve and the beard she’d helped convince him to grow, the guy who would sit and watch the goats with her because it made him so happy to see Bucky at peace, who just watched everything he’d ever fought for vanish before his eyes. She remembered what Shuri had said before, about his unrelenting depression and all the traumas he’d faced. He deserved his rest, she knew, but of his own doing. He deserved better than to be lost in his own mind.

And more than all of that, no matter what anyone deserved, the world needed him back.

She sucked in a steadying breath. “Okay,” she said softly. “I can do it.”

The work Shuri had to complete on her tech took a little over thirty minutes and once she was done, she held out a hand and presented Darcy with one of two small, vibranium discs. She pushed back Darcy’s hair from her shoulder and attached it to her temple. “Does that feel okay?”

Darcy shrugged. “What is it supposed to feel like?”

Shuri shrugged back. “I don’t _think_ it should hurt.”

“How sure are you that this is going to work?” she asked as Shuri attached the second disc to Steve’s temple.

Shuri stood up and narrowed her eyes in thought. “Eighty…two percent.”

She watched the rest of the room exchanged nervous glances. “It’s fine, guys,” she insisted with a weak laugh. “That’s still a B.”

Shuri returned to her kimoyo bead’s projection and squinted as she made some adjustments and calculations. “I should warn you,” she added, almost as an afterthought, “this is all extremely speculative. And there is a possibility of brain damage.”

Darcy blinked and sat down in the chair Thor had dragged across the room. She sat in front of Steve, their knees almost touching. “Me or him?”

Shuri thought about it again. “You, most likely.”

Darcy forced herself to nod, nonchalantly. “Well, if it’s gotta be one of us…”

“Are you ready?”

_Absolutely not,_ she thought and nodded again. “Do it before I change my mind.”

“Here goes nothing…” Shuri said under her breath as Darcy felt a warm tingling at her temple that quickly spread over her whole scalp.

She squeezed her eyes shut on instinct and waited until the tingling stopped abruptly.

“Darcy, can you hear me?” Shuri asked tentatively.

“Yeah,” she said, trying to decide if she was disappointed or relieved that she felt no different. “I don’t think it—whoa.” She cut herself off as she pulled open her eyes. She was standing now, staring down at herself and Steve. She looked down at her hands and clapped them together, determining that she was still very much solid. “Holy shit…” she murmured, watching as Shuri leaned in and said something to the Darcy still sitting in the chair. She couldn’t make out her words anymore and the longer she stood there, the faster details in the room began to fade.

First the outer edges of the room, the bookshelves and artwork and then the moving inward until nothing remained in a dim white space but her body and Steve. “Just you and me, Cap,” she said softly, wondering if he could hear her now. She turned and caught sight of a door as it materialized behind her. “She meant a literal door,” she commented and approached with caution. She raised a fist and knocked gently.

“Who's there?” A voice she couldn’t recognize called from the other side.

She paused and pursed her lips. “A friend,” she decided. “It’s…Darcy. I’m looking for—”

The door swung open and she stepped inside with wide eyes. She’d found herself in the kitchen of an apartment. An _old_ apartment, from the looks of it. Tattered curtains, a cracked window that let in a gust of chilly air, there was a wood-burning stove in one corner and a shallow hand sink in front of which rested a small step-stool. A few dishes were stacked neatly on a dish towel on the counter. Pushed in the corner and only set with two chairs was a scrubbed wooden table.

And at that table sat a skinny, blonde little boy, sketching on old butcher paper with a worn-out nub of a pencil. Darcy smiled and felt a lump rise in her throat.

“Hello Steve.”

 


	2. Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been thinking about this for almost a year now and thinking that this chapter didn't feel quite right. So I re-wrote it. Enjoy the pain!

His eyes looked even bluer against his paler skin, but he offered he a shy smile that was more than a little familiar. “Hi, Darcy,” he said politely before returning to his drawing. “What are you doing here?”

“I…uh…” she tested her hand against the empty chair and found it to be solid. She sat down and watched as his blonde hair fell into his eyes. He pushed it away. “I’m looking for you,” Darcy said, finding her voice again. “Shuri and Natasha sent me to bring you back.”

He looked up, confused. “I don’t want to go back,” he said firmly. “I want to stay here. I like it here.”

She pursed her lips and reminded herself that no one suggested that this might be easy. “I know but, Steve,” she waited until he looked at her again. “We can’t stay here. We need you to come back.”

The sound of his pencil scratching on paper enveloped them for a few long moments before he spoke again. “Nobody needs me.”

“Why would you think that?”

He shrugged and purposefully avoided her gaze. “Anyway, I can’t leave. I promised my ma I wouldn’t go out when I’m sick.”

Darcy sat back a little bit and looked around the room again. “Steve, how old are you right now?”

“Nine,” he said and looked up with a hint of defiance. “I’m just little for my age.”

She nodded and was about to open her mouth again when another knock interrupted them and Steve pushed away from the table to answer it. She got up and followed him into the cramped, drafty living room.

Steve pulled open the door with some effort and Darcy watched as his whole face lit up. “Hey, jerk.”

“Hey, punk.”

He held the door open all the way and a stocky boy, roughly a head taller swaggered in with a cocky smile and blue eyes full of mischief.

“Bucky,” she said, a soft smile on her lips.

Nine-year-old Bucky didn’t notice her as Steve closed the door again. “Feelin’ any better?”

Steve nodded and almost immediately gave into a cough so deep it rattled her bones. “It sounds worse than it is,” he said when his wheezing subsided. “We can still play.”

Bucky regarded him for a few moments before he shrugged easily. “I don’t feel like playin’ outside today,” he said before he reached into the knapsack he’d brought with him and retrieved a pack of cards. “Wanna play gin instead?”

Steve nodded and brought Bucky back to the kitchen table. His bag fell to the floor with a heavy thud and Steve raised his eyebrows curiously.

Bucky shrugged and reached into the bag again. This time he returned with a heavy thermos. “My ma made too much soup this morning. Thought you could help me eat it for lunch or somethin’.”

Darcy watched as Steve cut the deck of cards and started to deal. “You don’t have to take care ‘a me, Buck,” he said without looking up. “I’m okay, y’know.”

Bucky just smiled and reached across the table to squeeze Steve’s bird-like shoulder. “I know.”

The scene shifted without warning and Darcy found herself standing on the metallic teeth of a warehouse catwalk. On one end stood Thor, Steve, and Tony suited for battle. On the other, Wanda and a young man with blue eyes and white blonde hair. In front of them, intimidatingly tall and monstrous, was a robot. More man than machine with glowing red eyes and fingers that clenched menacingly as Steve spoke.

 _Ultron_.

“I know you’ve suffered,” Steve said, speaking directly to Wanda, but he was cut off with a scoff.

“Captain America…” Ultron chided with a cynical laugh. “God’s righteous man.” He shook his head. “Pretending you could live without a war.”

Darcy turned from the robot to look at Steve, surprised to find that their surroundings had changed again. They were back in New York. In the common room where she knew they used to hang out and watch movies. Wanda was there—so was Vision. They were standing close together, arguing but Darcy couldn’t make out what they were saying. She watched Vision reach out and run his hands over Wanda’s hair, watched Wanda blink tears from her eyes and shake her head furiously.

She turned and saw Steve watching the same scene before his eyes dropped, just a fraction, an unreadable expression on his face.

Her face folded into a frown of confusion as the room faded and shifted to the cold, marble hallway of a mausoleum. “What…” she murmured as Steve brushed past her from behind. He had a single white rose in his hand as he approached the wall stacked with the names and dates of the entombed. Curious, she came followed him and watched as he stopped and set the flower on a ledge at eye level. He reached up and pressed a hand to the name above it and Darcy felt her throat constrict as she read what it said.

_Margaret “Peggy” Carter – Courage. Honor. Sacrifice. – 1921 – 2016_

Steve closed his eyes and let his head hang, leaning his weight on the hand that covered her name. Darcy wanted to reach out and touch him, wrap an arm around his and let him know he wasn’t alone. “I’m…sorry,” she said softly, an impotent word that couldn’t convey how sorry she really was. Sorry that they were here. Sorry that Peggy wasn’t. Sorry that every time Steve sacrificed everything he had, the world turned around and demanded a higher price.

But if he could hear her, he didn’t let on. And the world around them shifted again. They were in a hallway at the tower in Manhattan. Steve walked past her without acknowledgement, his strides long and purposeful as he made his way to a room at the end of the hall. “Steve,” Darcy called, quickening her steps to keep up with him. “Steve, wait—what are you doing?”

He still paid her no attention as he stepped through the open doorway. She followed close behind and stopped short just inside.

Bucky, Sam, Wanda, Vision, Tony, and T’Challa were kneeling on the ground. Their hands tied behind their backs, heads hanging down.

“What is this…” she asked. Her words hung heavy in the air while she waited for an answer. But Steve didn’t look at her. He stood facing his team and Darcy watched with wide-eyed shock as he drew a gun from his hip and fired.

Six times.

Each bullet piercing through the top of the head of one of his friends. Blood and bone splattered against the white wall behind them and they slumped, one after another, at his feet.

Before she could make a sound, they were back in the warehouse.

“Pretending you could live without a war,” Ultron said again, and his voice echoed painfully in her ears.

And then they were somewhere else. A small, comfortable kitchen with daylight streaming through the blinds. Steve was sitting at another table, this one strewn with yellowed files and records. An open laptop displayed a SHIELD intranet login with a red _Access Denied_ message across the screen.

“Still no luck?” Sam’s voice pulled her attention away from Steve’s furrowed brow. He moved a handful of paperwork to clear a spot and set down a plate with a sandwich in front of Steve.

“Yeah,” Steve grumbled, not looking up from his notes. “Your hacker is trying another access point, but it’s going to take time.”

“Good thing we’ve got plenty of that,” Sam commented. “In the meantime,” he motioned to the sandwich with his chin. “Thank me later.”

But Steve shook his head and returned to his work. “No thanks,” he said politely, “I’m not that hungry.”

“Well you don’t eat a fluffernutter because you’re hungry,” Sam said, undeterred by Steve’s bad mood. “You eat it because you’re an American and it’s your God-given right to do so.”

Steve blinked in surprise. “A what?”

“A fluffernutter,” Sam repeated.

“That sounds like a word Dr. Seuss made up,” Steve said with a half-smile.

“Just buckle your mind, Rogers,” Sam said, bringing a smile to Darcy’s face as Steve hesitantly picked up the sandwich. “It’s about to get blown.”

She wanted more of this, memories of these rare happy moments, but their surroundings faded just as Steve was about to take a bite.

They were back in at the compound with Wanda and Vision and Darcy watched Steve’s eyes shift again, just an inch downward.

And then they were in the hallway of the tower and Steve was brushing past her, gun at his hip. “No,” she exclaimed, racing after him. “No, Steve,” she skidded into the room as he raised his arm to take his first shot. “Stop it!” she cried as he fired and Bucky slumped over. “Why are you doing this?” Sam’s blood splattered tiny droplets on his face as he fired a second time. She pleaded with him to stop, but her cries fell on deaf ears until once again, they were staring at a pile of bodies.

The bodies faded and the room shifted back to the tiny apartment in 1930s. Scrawny, nine-year-old Steve looked up from his drawing and frowned. “Why are you still here?’ he asked, more curious than unkind.

The image of him murdering his friends was still fresh in her mind. She wiped absently at her face for stray drops of blood, surprised when she found none. She forced herself to focus and remember why she’d come here in the first place. “Steve, you have to come with me,” she said, a little more forceful than before. “It’s really important—we can’t stay here.”

“Sure, we can,” he said with solemn blue eyes. “It’s better here. It’s safe.”

“It’s…not,” she said, feeling the first hint of desperation creep into her voice. What would happen if she couldn’t bring him back? How was she going to get back without him? “It’s not safe here, Steve. I need you—”

“No, you don’t,” he cut her off with a surprising ferocity for such a little boy. He got up from the table and came to stand in front of her, the top of his blonde head only coming up to her waist. “Look at me,” he demanded and held out his skinny arms. “This is all I am,” he said plainly. “How could I help anyone?”

A pinprick of sad realization pierced her mind and she reached out to push back the silky hair that had fallen into his eyes. “Steve, that’s not…”

Another shift and the boy was gone.

This time it was a scene she recognized. Bucky’s cabin, just outside Birnin Zana. Bucky was feeding his small herd of goats, talking to each of them, scolding them like they were his children. Darcy’s breath caught in her throat when she realized why this felt so familiar. She turned and found herself looking at herself, sitting with Steve, sharing a bag of chocolate covered mangoes.

This was recent, she realized, with a pang. This was the last time Steve had visited. When she’d sat next to him in companionable silence, eating mangoes, watching Bucky. When she’d been _this_ close to reaching her hand out and slipping it into his, just to see what he’d do.

But she didn’t remember it like this. The Darcy that Steve was sitting next to didn’t look anything like her. Her skin was glowing, and her eyes were practically sparkling, and this Steve looked like it was taking everything inside of him not to touch her. Her Steve didn’t look at her like that.

Her lips were moving, and she could see she was saying something around a laugh, but she couldn’t hear herself. Steve’s eyes were glued to her face, her lips, as a small smile played on his.

“You are _so_ beautiful,” he said softly, and in that second, she believed it. She _was_ beautiful. Content and fulfilled and almost full of sunlight. Darcy felt that lump rise in her throat again. He dropped his eyes and shook his head slightly. “Someone should have told you that.”

“Someone did,” she said, her voice just above a whisper. That pang hit her again. The determination to bring him back and stop all of this. This Steve was softer, she realized. Maybe this Steve would listen to her.

But before she could open her mouth to coax him to come with her, everything shifted again. Ultron glared menacingly down at them, his mocking tone and cutting words so much worse this time.

Then the common room in New York.

The hallway of the tower again. Gunshots. Blood. A pile of bodies.

Bucky with his new arm and clean hair, coming out of the palace to greet Steve with a hug. She tried to make the memory stop there. Tried to let Steve feel his friend’s arms around him again. But it was no use.

The shifts felt like they were happening faster. Repeating themselves.

Ultron.

New York.

Six gunshots.

A memory of Wanda, letting out an uncharacteristic shriek of victory as she stood from a chessboard across from him and pumped her fists in the air. “I _knew_ I’d beat you eventually!” she exclaimed, laughing while Steve dropped his head into his hands, a smile on his face.

 _Pretending you could live without a war_.

New York. That almost imperceptible shift in his gaze.

And then the hallway again. She wasn’t as fast this time. He’d already begun shooting by the time she reached the room. Bucky and Sam were dead at his feet.

“Steve, please,” she begged, feeling the bile rise in her throat at the thought of having to watch this again. “Please, _stop!_ ”

As he aimed for Wanda, Darcy reached out and wrapped her hands around his arm, pulling the gun down as he squeezed the trigger and the shot went wild.

“What are you doing?” Steve barked, looking at her for the first time. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“Neither should you!” she said, not letting go as he wrestled for her to release him. “What are you doing, Steve? What _is_ this?”

Steve stopped moving and looked at her as if it were obvious. “This is what I did, Darcy. This is what happens to the people I care about.” He shrugged her off and turned back to the line of his friends. “Now go away and let me finish my job.”

“No,” she said firmly and reached for him again. “Steve, this is _wrong._ This _isn’t_ what happened. You have to stop.”

He made a move to shrug her off a second time, but the scene had returned to the warehouse. She waited to hear Ultron’s scornful words again, but Steve—the Steve she’d pulled with her—pulled away and started walking in the other direction.

“Steve, wait,” she hurried after him. “Please, stop! I can’t keep following you around. We don’t have time for…” They were back at the compound before she could finish her sentence. “This.”

“I never asked you to follow me,” Steve reminded in a tight voice.

“What is this?” she asked, lowering her voice as she watched the other Steve’s expression shift once more.

“I told you,” the Steve beside her said, dropping his eyes to the gun still clenched in his hand. “All in a day’s work.”

“No,” she shook her head and motioned to the scene before them. “This,” she repeated. “This moment. What happened here?”

“Just.” Steve clenched his jaw and dropped his eyes to the floor. “Don’t.”

“ _I’m_ not,” Darcy exclaimed, her frustration mounting. “ _You’re_ the one who keeps dragging me back here and you wouldn’t be doing it unless there was something you wanted me to see. What are you trying to tell me?”

“Nothing,” he said, his eyes firmly on the ground.

“Steve,” her voice softened, and she reached tentatively for his hand. “Please?”

“This is where I quit, Darcy,” The Steve across the room answered as the other fell silent.

Her head snapped up to find he hadn’t moved from his place by the wall, but he’d raised his eyes to hers. She felt her forehead crinkle. “What?”

“It was just for a second,” the Steve beside her said softly. His counterpart across the room continued. They began speaking in turn, finishing each other’s sentences

“I was watching them—Vision and Wanda—”

“The weight of what I was asking them—”

“And it hit me.”

Darcy looked from one Steve to the other, the emptiness in both of their expressions, the heaviness of their shoulders. She swallowed hard. “What hit you?”

“I can’t stop Thanos,” the Steve beside her said.

“He’s going to win,” the other added.

“And as soon as I thought it—”

“I wanted it to happen.”

“Why?” Darcy asked, a crack in her voice. “Why would you—”

“I wanted it to be over,” the man beside her said, his voice just above a whisper. “I’m just…I’m so tired of fighting.”

Darcy’s heart sank as a lump formed in the back of her throat. “But you didn’t…” she stopped herself and started again. “Steve, you didn’t _make_ this happen. No matter what you think—”

“But I did,” he insisted softly from across the room. “I had Thanos in my hands. I could’ve stopped him. I could’ve given more. I could’ve done more. But I was off by a fraction of a second. Because of this. Because I quit.”

“I quit and I killed them.”

Darcy blinked and looked between them again. “Okay,” she said finally and took a deep breath. “Enough.”

“What?” Both Steves asked in unison.

“All of this,” she waved her hands. “This loop, this…this craziness, it’s just guilt. It’s guilt and it’s fear and no one is going to blame you for feeling any of it. But that’s all it is. Give it a name and put it where it belongs.” She watched, waiting to see if anything she said was sinking in. “You’ve been fighting against _everything_ your entire life,” she reminded him. “I know you’re tired; I can’t even imagine how tired you are,” she admitted. “And so you wanted out for _one second,_ so what?”

“I got them all killed…”

“Did you?” she demanded. “What if they’re not dead, Steve? What if they’re just…” she grasped for a better explanation. “I don’t know. But we don’t know exactly what Thanos did. There might still be a chance we can get them back, I don’t know. But I know that whatever it is…whatever might come next, we can’t do it without you.” Darcy didn’t get the feeling she was winning her argument. “Steve…I wish I could…” she sighed and chanced a step closer. “I wish I could tell you that the fighting would be over when we get back. That you can be done and you can rest and that we’re going to figure this out and that it’ll all be okay but I can’t promise that. I don’t…” her words faltered again, dying as they sat on the tip of her tongue.

“The fighting _is_ over, Darcy. And if there’s no war…if there’s nothing left to fight…” Steve looked down again. “Then it doesn’t matter if I’m there or not.”

“Yes, it does,” she insisted. “I don’t know why you don’t see it, I don’t know why you never questioned it, but Ultron was _wrong_. You’re not just a soldier or a weapon or some…piece of machinery that the government banged together all those years ago.” She dropped her shoulders with a defeated sigh and forced herself to go on. “Look, I could tell you that I need you to come back because Bucky makes the most progress with his therapy right after you’ve been to see him. Or because you’re Sam’s best friend and the only one who can make him talk about his feelings instead of just listening to everyone else’s. Or,” she dropped her shoulders and let out a short, joyless laugh. “Or because you fixed my coffee maker the last time you were here, and I’m terrified of what happens if you’re not around when it breaks again. But…” she bit her lip. “But I want you to come back because your laugh is _so_ loud and it’s my favorite sound,” she admitted, willing herself to be brave for just a few minutes more. “And the days you show up for a visit are the ones I look forward to the most. And because I miss you a little more every time you have to leave. So—” her voice caught inconveniently in the back of her throat as she took a shuddering breath. “So maybe the rest of the world needs you to come back and be a hero again but.” She blinked back the tears that were threatening to spill down her cheeks. “But I need you to come back to be with me.”

And there it was. The truth she’d been avoiding and dancing around for months. The real reason she’d followed him in here. And the real reason she was terrified to leave without him. Because she didn’t want to leave without him. She didn’t want to go back to the world if he wasn’t going to be there with her.

Steve closed his eyes for a long moment before he opened them and met her gaze. “What if I can’t?” he asked softly. “What if I’m not strong enough?”

“You don’t have to be,” she promised, her voice hoarse with desperation. “I’ll be strong for you. Or we can be strong together,” Darcy said. “Just let me help you—come back with me,” she begged. “If you don’t then…” she stopped and looked around. “Then this is it. This is all there is.” She took another deep breath and stepped closer to him. She willed her hand not to shake as she held it out to him. “Come back, Steve,” she said softly. “For me.”

Darcy waited, anticipation pounding in her chest until finally, after what felt like an eternity, Steve reached out and closed his hand around hers.

Her eyes flew open at the same time Steve’s did. The office was dim again, the day that had just been breaking when she’d started her mission was fading into another golden Wakandan sunset. He was all she could focus on at first. Steve’s chest rose and fell with quick, shallow breaths that matched her own as he blinked his world back into focus. They stared at each other for a long, silent moment before Darcy realized they weren’t alone.

“You’re back,” Shuri breathed around a sigh of relief as she got up from behind N’Basa’s desk. “Captain Rogers, are you alright? Are you—” She stopped short and darted her eyes between them. “I’ll…get Dr. Banner,” she said quietly. “Take as much time as you need to adjust.”

Darcy was still looking at Steve when she heard the door quietly click closed. The silence fell heavy and almost palpable between them “Steve?” she asked tentatively.

He nodded numbly. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m…” his throat bobbed with a hard swallow and Darcy watched as the tears rose unforgivingly in his eyes. A sob he must have been swallowing back for years choked its way up from his chest and pulled Darcy out of her chair.

His arms wrapped tightly around her waist as soon as she was close enough to reach. She felt his tears soaking into her shirt and a lump rose in her own throat. She stood beside him and ran her fingers through his hair, remembering the sad defiance of the little boy he’d once been. The weight he carried around with him for so long. All the guilt and the loss that he kept inside. His shoulders shook beneath her hands as her vision blurred and the weight of everything that had happened hit her all over again.

“It’s okay,” she said softly. “It’s okay, Steve. I’m here.”

It wasn't okay. None of it was okay. But she was there, and so was he. 

And that had to be enough for now.

**Author's Note:**

> I borrow freely and deeply from Buffy and Fringe and regret nothing except bringing you all into my well of sadness with me. 
> 
> Come and play with me on Tumblr @idontgettechnology. And please let me know what you think?


End file.
